Raven and the Beast
by CalliopeMused
Summary: AU. When Trigon's only daughter threatened to visit the abandoned old castle, she had no idea what she was getting into.
1. Prologue

_Every time I think I'm through with ideas, another one comes out of nowhere and socks me in the face. This story is an alternate universe. All details of setting will be set as the story moves along. I do not own the Teen Titans, or Lynch. Many thanks to the lovely Kayasuri-N for letting me borrow her demonic muse for a mention. A few Titans will be out of character as judged by the cartoon, but a different background explains all changes. Read and review, and please keep in mind this is a comedy with hints of romance._

**Prologue  
**Raven slammed neatly folded undergarments into the bottom of a valise. The produced sound wasn't very satisfying. To further get the correct effect, she picked up her cedar chest and slammed that on the ground. The fact that the chest was across the room didn't faze her. She had been able to do odd things with black energy since before she could walk, and the black magic was most adept at startling potential suitors away.

Raven granted her hand mirror a satisfied grin as she packed it carefully amid a clump of stockings. Her father should have known better than to invite three suitors to one lunch. She had only needed to rattle the plates around six times to get them spooked, and just one incident of a dancing roasted chicken had sent the first man running. The other two had waited until she brought their hats and coats to them, courtesy of her powers. She didn't know why her father was surprised. Trigon had been threatening to get her married off for years for her many pranks, but she much preferred getting rid of the annoying men who wanted a pretty wife with a prettier dowry.

Trigon had once been one of the most powerful demons in hell- as he grumbled often, especially after she caused suitors to run away as fast as their legs would carry them. He was probably telling the story again to whoever was unfortunate enough to be in hearing range. Some "snotty young upstart" called Lynch had managed to get him exiled when she took over. Raven never had heard exactly why her mother left town in a huff when Trigon returned, but knew it had to be a good story. Trigon refused to mention any part of it.

Raven was almost humming as she packed away her dresses, starting with her every-day numbers. Her two nice dresses were packed carefully. She was the only seamstress in the household, and she didn't trust her work on the modified dresses her mother had left. The alterations had been done by Mrs. Grayson, who could do a bit of sewing without damaging clothing worse than it was before attempted repairs. Her father had been foolish enough to give her a choice. She could choose one of the three suitors, or get sent to the big dark scary castle down the road. Raven smiled at the look on her father's face when she had given him her best innocent look. That was one of many things she needed to work on. She could spend a month in the big old haunted place, easily.

She glanced at her two suitcases. Through a little creative packing, and a lot of her black magic, she had managed to fit all of her clothing into one valise. The second small case was entirely books. She wasn't going to mill about with nothing to do, after all. She brought them out into the hall with just a hint of magic. They trailed her out onto the street, causing her father to sigh. He was always complaining about how powerful she could be, with training. He had to admit that becoming more powerful would mean that she would have to completely repress her emotions and meditate more than she slept, which didn't appeal to her. Raven could keep people away and use a surprise advantage to win a fight. What else did she want?

"Raven, did your father give you the marry someone or go to the big creepy castle ultimatum?"

Raven smiled. She should have known her friend would guess. "Robin, do you know that this is the chance of a lifetime? I can read and not be bothered at all- and if I get bored, I'll come home sooner. You know what he's like- maybe, while I'm gone, he'll find a new hobby. We both know that he might try marrying us off again, if he gets too desperate."

Robin shuddered. He and Raven were close friends, but he did not want to be related to her father- and she was a friend. Robin, Raven, and Cyborg had grown up together, and had met Starfire just a few years before Trigon started the marry-off-Raven obsession. "You know that Cyborg's going to kill you if you get yourself dead." Cyborg was the farrier in charge of all horses' shoes within a ten mile radius.

Raven smiled. "Yes, I know. I'll visit all of you in a week or so, okay? If I'm not back in two weeks, you can send someone after me. There's no need to stay around here all night. You can tell the other two."

"Do you want them to hurt me?" he asked. Robin knew that wasn't Raven's style. She showed displeasure personally.

"They can deal with it, and so will you. I'm going to enjoy my two weeks of vacation." Raven loaded her bags into the carriage. Her father had harnessed the horses without being kicked by one of the mares, today. Trigon had yet to grasp simple ideas such as touching a horse before moving into its blind spot. Her father already had taken up the reins. Raven took a seat beside him in the simple cart, leaving her bags on the passenger seat. She hated good-byes, so she avoided them whenever possible.

"Raven, are you sure about this?" Trigon asked.

She gave him her sweetest smile, which only grew wider when he muttered under his breath again. "Positively, dear father. As I recall, you suggested this lovely plan." She adjusted her skirts for a long journey. "You don't believe those rumors about the Beast that lives in the old palace, do you? All I know is that the orchards and kitchen gardens will feed more for however long I choose to stay."

* * *

"What do you mean, she's off to the creepy deserted castle?" Cyborg demanded. He had started out life as Victor, but couldn't forget the horror of what his mother had almost named him. His father hadmercifully written 'Victor Stone' on paperwork, but nearly being named Colin Yorick Brandon Orville Reginald George was one of those scarring events that just scared a man. He did like how the first letters of each name worked out into a unique title no one else would claim. Cyborg the farrier, at your service. 

"Her dad gave the ultimatum that usually is a mother's threat for small children. It's only been used for about ten years, so the old wives haven't caught onto it yet. 'Marry one of these guys or go off to the castle.' She chose the castle- you know how contrary she is," Robin said, appealing to reason.

"Well, you certainly didn't stop her," Cyborg grumbled. "We all know her father meant to make her look twice at a suitor."

Starfire was not pleased. She was a relative newcomer to the group of friends, but she had been in town for three years. "We all know that friend Raven is most impulsive, and even the oddest of rumors has a base of truth. There is something in that castle."

"Even if there is something in there, Raven can handle it," Robin argued. Personal insecurities for her aside, he was saving his hide. "We need to give her two weeks, or it looks like we don't trust her."

"I trust her," Cyborg said reluctantly, "but I don't trust legends."

Starfire nodded her agreement. "I will give her two weeks, but will not be disappointed fully to see her ride back here with her father. She is far too stubborn for her own good, sometimes," she said with a frown. "Someday, she'll meet someone just as obstinate as she is." Starfire stared down the one road that led out of their small town. The dust was beginning to settle behind Raven's chariot.

* * *

The deserted castle was not the best territory. The inside of his lair was too large for it to be carefully patrolled, but he wouldn't stay in the caves closer to town. The earth shook, and there was only one entrance that could easily be blocked by falling rocks. It was better to stay far from the warm earth, even if cold stone was the other option. No other cave was unoccupied, and fighting for dominance with some creature would do no good. They had no space to roam. 

Instead, he claimed the area surrounding the castle as his hunting ground. He needed no weapons, when he could catch his own prey easily. The smoldering fire that had been left by a passing traveler was fed by shattered furniture, dry, rotting wood that served no better purpose. He didn't know why he kept the fire alive, except that he would have no replacement if all the embers died down. Tending the fire in the great hall became a way to keep track of days. In seven sunsets- he knew that five and two lights made some measurement of time- he could burn away three of the large chairs.

He left only two of the chairs after burning the great hall's many pieces of furniture, many sets of all-claws used for kindling. After years of neglect, the wood was in no condition to restore. Beneath the expensive exterior, the framework was soft sap-wood. The table had begun to sag away from the supports, and was easily broken into manageable pieces that wouldn't kill his small flames. Fires were a source of dim light, and the smell of burning wood was familiar. He could almost remember people roasting meat over a fire- but the smell of the singed feathers on his experimental woodcock discouraged that idea.

Sometimes, small prey-that-is-a-predator came to his castle. He roared at the timid and threw things at the braver. No one was to stay in his home. Their territory was elsewhere, and he had claimed this for his own. He knew almost every inch of his home, save the crawlspaces that smelled of wax-bright ends and homelier meals with sharp spice ruining the flavor of natural meat.

No one had come by his home for at least two four-legs of dark moons, but he still patrolled his territory diligently. He had nothing to defend but the land that was his by right of strength and cleverness. He could defeat strong animals without wasting effort. The other animals did not think with bursts of the prey-that-will-not-be-a-predator, and he felt no guilt in using his advantages.

He could remember a time when he did not claim territory for his solitary use. The memories came only when he slept or stared into the fire, unclear images of a not-mad not-scared smile-mouthed mate-pair who smiled at a small boy-cub. He could remember screams and crying, and the look of claws in the moonlight, and running from the light-on-sticks that was like his fire. That was long ago. Only the prey-that-eats-predators kept memories to trouble their nights, and he felt less like prey every day, no matter how strong or clever. He was not to be hunted. He was a hunter. He howled, throwing back his head so that the sound echoed in the great hall, nearly deafening to his ears. This was his territory, and that was all he needed to know.


	2. What a Pickup Line You Have

_Quite a few people have asked about the primal mind that bases the narration for the end of the first chapter. That is meant to be a little confusing- he hasn't heard people talk in a long time, and half of his thoughts are instincts. Comments such as five-and-two are just a different way of counting things, as numbers are a little tricky when thinking in animal concepts. Hopefully, he will be less bewildering as the story progresses.  
_

**Chapter One: What a Pickup Line You Have**  
Raven couldn't get rid of her father quickly enough. Trigon had reconsidered leaving her alone, but Raven quickly rid him of that qualm. She used her usual method. She chattered until his eyes looked slightly glazed, and then slowly worked the punishment for her insolence into his head. He had to leave her at the castle for two weeks of reprieve, or she would suffer trauma from being raised with her mother away. By the time he left, he was already considering finding the town midwife for a headache remedy. The poor man had no idea that Arella was waiting at home for him with a mind-boggling story about other dimensions and someone called Azar, and questions about when he would finally marry her and where their daughter was.

Out of respect for the poor man, his trials in remembering that a wife (they were married two days later in a very nice ceremony Arella arranged) was just as bad as a daughter at hassling a once-powerful demon will not be recorded. Most of them are railings against Lynch, full of political innuendo- and spoken in a language which no one could find an interpreter for. Until Trigon is again important to the story, just remember that Arella is putting him squarely on the path of goodness, and that Trigon has invented several fascinating curses that sadly will not translate from his original tongue. The only bit anyone understood had something to do with a goat, a cantaloupe, and a poodle. After translating that much, all attempts were ceased. No one wanted to know.

Raven brought her bags to the door. Just to be polite, she reached for the ornately ridiculous door-knocker. Any metal work large enough to portray two griffons fighting while airborne in a rainstorm should not be part of a supposedly moving structure. Feeling its weight, Raven guessed that the decorator had not liked callers. She cheated and used a little black magic to pound on the door. There- anyone present would certainly hear that racket. She waited a few moments, just to be polite. She didn't expect anyone to open the door.

Raven looked up until her head nearly sank into the blue hood on her traveling cloak. Her first thought was that she wasn't wearing a red hood, visiting her grandmother, or carrying a basket of baked goods. Her next thought was that she'd probably eat the baked goods en route to grandmother's house. After that, she reasoned that she and the very large someone were still staring at each other. He was very large, very green, and very hairy. Maybe he just had a bad experience with clothing dye and a fear with haircuts. She gave his face a careful look. No, he wasn't quite human. She was about to say the first thing that came to mind when he roared at her.

Raven blinked. Well, that certainly had been interesting. She couldn't recall getting that reaction, especially before she said a word or several. But, if he wanted to play that game- she reached out and stopped the door from slamming. "Excuse me. My name is Raven. I've come to stay in this castle for a short while."

He stepped back from the door the instant her magic touched it, giving her a wary look. _Great. Big, green, and hirsute doesn't like magic. _She moved to pick up her bags. That was her first mistake. She avoided a second by throwing up a shield the instant she saw something fly. She looked out of her round black protections to see the fragments of a vase fly everywhere. That was it.

"Excuse me, mister, but that was rude," she said, shooing fragments of glass from her valise. He might have the home-field advantage, but she wasn't going to go home now. "That was about the worst thing to do, if you wanted to get rid of me," she said, letting her eyes gain the white glow that meant she was going to try something tricky. That didn't faze him. Instead, he charged.

Raven held up a hand. She would not stand for any outbursts from beasts. She held him. When the black bands of magic touched him, he stopped fighting. Levitating herself was tiresome, and she wanted to see his eyes. She did the next best thing. She flipped him upside down with a twist. She flipped her head around, twisting her neck into an odd angle. He looked- sentient. That was something. "My name is Raven," she said quietly, guessing that yelling would do neither of them any good. "Raven," she repeated clearly. "I will not harm you. If you do not want me to stay here, I will not." Looking into the confused green eyes, she couldn't stay angry. She released him carefully, making sure he had two legs firmly on the ground. He wasn't going to attack her.

Raven kept that as a quiet mantra when a very large hand reached towards her. Any one of his five claws would be enough to skewer her- and that was just one hand. She watched his eyes, hoping that he wasn't tricking her. She read his body language, remembering all the small, non-threatening animals. He was leaning back, and only one of his hands was near her. Hoping she was making the right choice, she stepped closer and took a good look at his hand.

It was a hand, no matter how green. The back was covered in short fur that looked so soft that Raven had reached out to make contact without thought. He didn't move. Taking a deep breath, she ran her hand lightly down his, feeling where the back of his hand gave way to long fingers and the claws. She took the hand in both of hers, moving like she did with a skittish horse- slow touches, always gentle, and let him see what you're doing. The underside of his hand was a rough palm that looked like the pictures she had seen of the large monkeys in Africa that some called apes. Finally, she looked at his claws. The ends curved in slightly to form a point, and she knew just from looking that the tips were very sharp.

There. He had a hand. She looked up his arm, which had a much thicker type of fur in the same shades of green. He had a ruff of coarser hair that looked almost like a mane, and cat-like feet. Well, she certainly had never heard of anyone like him- someone who could have that look in their eyes was not 'anything.' She released his hands to pick up her bags. "Would you mind if I came in?" she asked.

He knew these words. The female had done something with predator-tricks- but she had not hurt him. She had made the vase miss. He did not feel that he should throw things at the young female, even in a time such as winter when any of her cubs would be on their own, but she had been a threatening presence. She had picked him up without any difficulty- but she had only wished to look at him. She had looked him in the eyes, but had not tried to initiate a stare-down. Even if she had, he would not have been able to tell if she looked away, while her eyes were glowing.

He had reached out on some prey-that-fights instinct, but had not expected her to touch him. She moved carefully, not with the brash quickness of someone violent. By the time she had finished looking at his hand, he knew that he wouldn't chase her away. He remembered some of those words- the 'came in' was the important part, the rest niceties. He stepped aside for her, letting her come inside. She curved her lips- a smile. He did not return the gesture. He had a predator's teeth for tearing, not flashing white curves to be shown when pleased.

Raven started looking around the house. After a few minutes, he stopped following her. She was almost lonely, going through twisting hallways and desolate rooms, but the way he stared at her was unnerving. She found a few doorways blocked completely by debris, but enough demolished rooms were open for her to get the idea. She looked very closely at what had been a table. Five deep scratches ran across the table, and she knew who had caused the damage. She traced the marks with a few glances at the grain in the wood. Her father dabbled in being a merchant, to explain his cash flow, and she recognized good wood when she saw it. He was strong, then.

She chose her room by default. The servants' quarters had a narrow entryway that he had not been able to fit through, and the room was undisturbed. Choice made, she set her bags on a spare bed. The simple wardrobe was empty. Raven took out the two dresses that shouldn't get wrinkled, her good dresses. She would rather shred the gray dress, but her favorite wasn't always socially acceptable. Black was the color of mourning, traditionally, but Raven had always been complimented on that dress. She had thought to bring flint and steel, at least, and remembered to light an oil lamp for later. Stumbling about unfamiliar rooms in the dark was never pleasant. Once she was sure that her lamps had enough oil to stay lit for a while, she headed out to the orchards she had seen before entering the house.

She had never seen such a crowding of trees. Pear and apple trees were crowded with blueberry bushes, and covered in raspberry and blackberry brambles. It was the season for apples. She breathed in the scent of the orchard. She loved apples in autumn- her opinion might change after her two week break from reality, but the smell was perfect. Standing in the breeze, she decided that leaving her cloak on her bed had not been the wisest choice.

She made her way back to her room, passing by a great hall. She paused, looking inside. There was a fire in the hearth, small flames over heaps of coals. The castle's occupant had fed it, she could tell. Maybe she could work on it tomorrow, to get more heat from the brazier- but only when she knew the owner of the house a little better. He had to be the ghost so many people spoke of, but she didn't think that he had attacked people. The beast she had met was gentle, but she could still remember the stories of attacks and blood.

Raven slept uneasily. Trusting him and convincing herself that it was safe to sleep were two different matters. She knew that he could be gentle. Her subconscious mind knew that he had very large and very sharp claws. That left for a restless night, and a return to her usual grouchy disposition. When she glared at the sunlight streaming through threadbare curtains, Raven made an important realization. Even in the complete absence of people, she still was not a morning person. Grumbling to herself, she shuffled into the small attached kitchen. She lit the fire in the stove, waited for the heat to work, and then put a kettle on. While waiting for the whistle, she grumbled and occupied herself by slamming books about while deciding what to read. When the water was finally heated, she prepared a cup of tea.

After a cup of tea, she felt ready to face the world at large. She didn't bother remembering that the "world at large" consisted of an orchard, a fireplace, a few dozen rooms filled with wrecked furniture- and a beast. She couldn't think of what she could call him, but that label fit best. Raven wasn't fond of labels, but she couldn't think in terms of the "large green hairy animal-like creature with something that makes me not want to call him a beast." That would be ridiculous- she'd have to definitely start doing that around her father when he irritated her. The quickest way to get him to stop bothering her was to harass him until he caved and went into a brief period of catatonic disbelief that his daughter could be so frustrating. At that point, she happily reminded him that she was karma for the many souls whose lives he made- erm, heck. The less polite substitution for the euphemism was a sensitive word in Trigon's home, as it brought back memories of the days before the mutiny.

She went out to the orchard, cup of tea in hand. It wouldn't matter if she dropped the cup- there were about four dozen more, all identical. She had a book, one of the large thick volumes that were not suited for females. Raven opened the book with a smile. The books guaranteed to soil her delicate mind were always the most entertaining. Absorbed in a story, she stayed out in the orchard all day. Only when the sun drew near the horizon did she realize something odd. She hadn't seen anyone else today, and was almost annoyed to find how irritating that was.

The only trace she found of him was a new addition to the fire. She watched flames lick over a portion of an easy chair that deserved to burn. Fire was interesting, but she wanted to do something. Raven stopped, considering the circumstances. She was alone, just like she had wanted. She quickly went to her room to sleep before she could realize exactly what that meant. If she had any dreams, she forgot them.

The coals she had kept hot worked much more quickly to start a fire. Raven only had time to read through half a chapter of the book before her tea was ready. Carrying her tea and balancing the open book in her other hand, she wandered into the great hall to see if anything else was on the fire. If the rest of the chartreuse armchair wasn't burning, it should be. She glanced up, and saw a very large shape of green. She craned her neck again to find his face, after nearly dropping her tea. She was sure he couldn't help it, but his height would make her get a crick in her neck sooner or later.

He had frozen when Raven entered, and she almost backed away seeing the blood on his claws- but she could recognize partridge feathers when she saw them. "Everyone needs to eat," she said, refusing to be ruffled. She had seen worse table manners. Still, she read through the rest of her book as she drank the tea. Blood wasn't exactly the most pleasant of sights, not that she had any morning appetite the view would put off. When the sounds of crunching stopped, she glanced at the page she was on before closing the book and setting the empty teacup on top of it. He wouldn't understand a word, probably, but she decided a little conversation could be one-sided.

He watched her. Her word-sounds were quick, and few words made sense. She was looking at him, and using her careful-words. That meant that she would like him to understand what they meant. He hunched over as much as he could, to try looking her in the eye. She didn't look away or make the angry-dominant face. Instead, she said it again after other sounds.

"I can't just keep calling you the big green guy. I don't know exactly what you are, but you're too aware to just be some sort of Sasquatch." His presence explained the large tracks occasionally found near Forston, and she almost smiled. Cyborg and Robin both owed Starfire some money. Raven hadn't been silly enough to be involved in the bet about who had made the tracks. "Do you have a name?" She tried a final time after minutes of attempts. "Name? I am Raven."

"Beast." He watched as her eyes made the excited look again. She was happy to hear him make one of the words, but she quickly looked at him again.

"Your throat isn't made for words, but you've learned speech." Raven wouldn't ask him to speak, when his throat sounded so sore. He nodded again. The motion was already less jerking. Someone had practiced, she noticed. "I don't know what I can keep saying that you would know or care about, Beast, but you seem to like listening." She cupped a hand behind her ear and nodded. "You like hearing me talk."

He watched her for the next half hour, occasionally imitating her simpler motions. She sounded happy while showing him how hand-moves could be the same as word-sounds. He started following her motions. When he made one of his own, she hugged his arm. He almost pulled away, at the sudden motion, but she was gentle. He tried again, gesturing like he held one of the scribble-on-papers.

"A book?" Well, it couldn't hurt, and she would run out of things to say eventually. Even the most opinionated of people cannot keep a monologue running forever. Raven read from the middle, guessing that he wouldn't mind. She almost felt bad, reading books that no person of quality would own, but social niceties didn't quite matter in this situation. Just to be sure, she should read aloud from the etiquette book. It was actually funny, if read with a properly irreverent state of mind. She read to a rapt audience until the words blurred.

Raven woke in front of the fire. She sat up slowly, remembering. She had been put on a- fainting couch. She glared at the offending piece of furniture. She considered giving Beast a nice monologue of opinions- but then she spied the horrid green chair burning. How had he known? He wasn't much of a talker, but any girl could use a listener. She stood, giving the fainting couch a final disapproving look. Well- she would just have to explain a few things, after making sure Beast could understand what she was saying. Until then, she could start him in his reformation to an acceptable housemate by persuading him to destroy the furniture. Tea and book left at the side of the room, she left to go find Beast with only two regrets. When she went home, nobody would believe her- unless she brought a friend or two back for a visit. Beast might not be much of a talker- but he had some way of getting a girl's attention. Her second was a more personal matter. After roaring as a reaction, any other pickup line would be too much of a cliché.


	3. Damsel, Distressed

_Not all of the Beast's dialogue is perfect English. He uses a few made-up words that have easily guessed meanings, because he has a different way of looking at matters. Many thanks to dr.evil99 and the wonder that is TiVo for the details that added to the last scene of this chapter. I do not own Millard Fillmore, who could be the least known American president of the country's history._

**Chapter Two: Damsel, Distressed**  
Raven didn't know exactly why it worked. She had been in the castle for five days, and she was already more comfortable with Beast than she was with most people in the town. She liked her friends, but- this was different. In the middle of nowhere, she didn't have to fuss about propriety or rumors or the potential to cause a scandal. In Beast's castle, she could do things like lie about in the orchard and stare at clouds for no good reason. Most times he joined her, but he left to hunt. He had not brought his meals back to the castle since the partridge, no matter how many times she told him he could. Raven wasn't even exactly sure how it worked, but their system of communication could convey basic ideas.

Instead, she waited for him to come back from hunts, book in hand. She munched a pear as she waited. It was a few days from really ripening, but that didn't bother her. A change from apples was much appreciated, even if neither fruit particularly complimented her tea. The well behind the castle was uncontaminated, at least, and a little plain water was a nice change. Raven watched a partridge above her. She never had seen a partridge actually roosting in a pear tree- maybe the old Christmas carol made a little sense, then. She watched the partridge fly away suddenly, fleeing from danger. Raven smiled. Beast was back.

He lumbered into the orchard, moving carefully between the fragile trees. He found her, as he always did. Raven had a very limited empathic sense, but she could always tell when Beast was near. He was a confusing blend of emotions that she couldn't understand, primal stages of nature that she couldn't translate into modern words. She looked up when he stopped next to her. He always was careful, and never stood too close. He offered a hand, a new courtesy- she wrapped both hands partially around his wrist, and he pulled her up.

"Thanks," she said, trying to guess how one would be formal in such a situation. His wrist was bulkier than her waist, and she was struck again by how very large he was. Raven looked with fascination when he gave her a slight smile. _Okay, Mister Beast has some very lovely incisors there- he's not a vegetarian. _Raven refused to be ruffled. "Now, those are some sharp teeth- with the size of that lower left canine, I'm surprised you don't bite your lip every time you close your mouth."

He watched her. Most of her words were just sounds, but he knew bite. She said it with other words, so she didn't mean the usual response of teeth fixing into something like food. She smiled and made a few more word-sounds, finally gesturing for him to go inside. He followed. They used the side door in what was once a conservatory. Only the removed windows of that room and the front doors were wide enough for him to move without tricky maneuvering.

She pointed at a couch and made word-sounds, and then walked over to the fire. She repeated this twice before he began to understand. The fire was cooling, and needed more to burn. She wanted the couch to burn. He nodded. She smiled and clapped her hands, very-happy that he was going to demolish the furniture. He watched her for a second before he dealt the couch a quick blow. The thing shattered into fragments. He tried to not be too strong around her, to make sure that she wasn't frightened. He still didn't smell fear, so she wasn't scared. Instead, she looked at the fragments and said something about 'strong,' which was a good thing.

He sat on the floor, after feeding the fire. Raven used her black-magic, as she named it with words stuck together, to move pieces into the fire. She watched it burn, still very-happy. He didn't have to worry that she would use predator-tricks on him, just as she did not fear that she was prey. They could live together, like he sometimes ran with the wolves- if there was any caution, it was forgotten for the hunt-call that reached all predators. The moon did not make the hunt instinct stronger. It only made forest-paths easy to run without any fear, when the night-light touched the bottom of the murking trails. He remembered those nights, looking at the fire. He remembered who had made that fire, sometimes, and almost thought that he should smother the flames in dirt and dust. But- if he did, then he would lose all memories of those times. She had left, but before then she had been a friend.

She made concerned word-sounds, fretting as a mother would over cubs- or as a mate would, but she showed no signs of courtship. She made word-sounds carefully, but he didn't know what her sounds meant. Wrong- that was a bad word, but she didn't look mad. Instead, she looked worried, like a fussing mate. He couldn't remember when someone had made a worried face, and frowned his confusion.

Raven used her magic to lift her two foot-paws from the floor, so she could see his eyes. Humans believed that looking in the eyes showed many feelings, more than just hunger or anger or curiosity or sleepiness. She made only a few word-sounds before reaching out a hand. He watched her hand, just like he usually did. She was the size of most humans, but he was not. He was not one of her kind, but she acted like he could be- if he wanted. Watching her, he almost wanted to be, but the anger held him back. He could almost remember a time when he wasn't angry, but that was long ago. He growled softly, a threatening rumbling.

She pulled back, but stayed above the ground. She made a few sharper word-sounds, waiting for the anger to settle back to a dull seething. He knew what one of her gentle words meant, when it followed a murmur. It was two scratch-pictures together- okay. She said it until he could believe her. When the growling stopped, he decided that he could be angry later, when he hunted. She didn't like it when he was that angry, but she only waited for him to stop. She moved forward again, and he realized that he had stood to snarl at her. He sat again, and she touched his arm-back. The word-meaning escaped him, but that didn't matter. When he didn't push her away, she ran her hand down the stripe that went from his ear down his back.

He leaned against her touch. He remembered that people believed in touching, but predators did not. He almost pulled away, but she would be sad. He felt a few muscles slowly relax with her coaxing. She stopped after a few minutes and just wrapped her arms around him. He remembered what to do from times when he was not strong- back when he had been something weaker than a beast. Using no muscle-strong grip, he carefully supported her with an arm.

They stayed there for a long time, until the hunt-call filled him. She leaned into his neck-fur and made a few soft word-sounds with his name at the end. Beast. It was a name that meant what he was, and that was all he needed. He was more beast than green. He put her back on the ground carefully, and she smiled and took an apple from her basket. She kept the basket over the mantle, for the times when it was too dark to venture out to the orchard. He already thought of that as partially her territory. He did not use that land, and the few birds in that area were too hard to catch.

The small rooms were hers, and he could not reach them at all to think otherwise. They smelled completely of her, but he only scented the wind far from her window. Raven would not like to hear a hunter sniff about her room, but he could smell her far into the forest when the air ran in the right direction. He left for the hunt, just as he did every night. He hunted at night and flushed sleep-slow deer from their thickets. Tonight, he couldn't hear only the hunt-call as he followed trails of a slow young buck. He heard Raven murmur words in his ear, and could still feel a ghost of a touch by his ear. Beast knew that his patterns had changed, but that wasn't bad. Hunters would often decide on different hunts, when a new female moved into the area- potential mates weren't counted in patrolling boundaries.

* * *

It was two suns later that she followed him. Even when he growled, she only shook her head and made her mouth a line. _No. _She would not leave him to prowl about alone. After more time with Raven, he knew more of her words. No was a strong word that she said only when irritated, like she had a burr stuck in her hair, or angry, like when he had ruined a book. She had began to smell of salt-crying before she became angry, but she hadn't yelled for more than ten heart-pounds. Instead, she asked him to not claw the books- she could tell that he had tried to open it, like she did, to hear all the words that came out. 

He tried a final time at the border of the woodland. It was a full-moon night, and he was going to hunt. She didn't make any of her words. Instead, she took to the air, hovering above the ground. She knew that words were not a part of the hunt- and he guessed that she wanted to be a part of the pack-song. He howled. Before, he had worried that he might drive her away with such noise. Now, he knew that she was not afraid. She never smelled of fear, even when she used a cloth-box-shape to wipe blood from his claws with a false-mad lecture. She closed her eyes when he howled, just as she did after reading a very-good passage in a book.

When the wolves answered, as they did on hunt-moons, her eyes grew larger until he could see the dark in the middle of all the white. He knew that she was in colors, but he couldn't tell what they were. He saw her as blues and grays. He only saw reds when the anger took full hold of him, when he could not remember anything that was like the word-sounds or the expressions that humans made.

He answered the wolves, beginning to move through the trees. Raven followed, flying. She stayed just behind him, out of the way of the hunt. He sang about her in the howls, when not warning prey of the danger that he would make. She didn't know what the howls meant, but it was a trade. Her word-sounds were hard for him to make, and she wouldn't understand a hunt-song. She didn't know what the songs meant, but she listened as she flew behind him. He ran faster, loping along fast enough to catch any deer he spotted. She sped up with him, until the cloak over her gray dress flew back in the wind. She was smiling when he glanced over his shoulder.

He found a trail and sang out a hunt-call. Raven tried her own version, imitating the way he changed his voice. It was a good start, like a pup finding how to make the hunt-song. He howled again, letting the notes move a little slower. It wasn't music- it was how he lived. When he found his quarry, there was no warning, no death-song. He pounced and bit quickly. With a shake of his head, the buck fell limp.

She watched, breathing hard. He had never eaten when she could see. He could remember that ladies didn't like blood. "Eat," she said firmly. He watched her for another moment, recognizing her no-fight not-mad stare. She wasn't going to leave. He used sharp claws to slice away a full leg before eating it whole. She didn't flinch away. She watched even when the blood dripped from his claws while he ate the entire animal, stripping flesh from the bones with his claws. He left only a dissembled skeleton. Finished eating, he watched her.

She launched herself from the ground, kicking with her legs. She had strong legs, and flew without wings. He knew that she was human, by her smell, but she was something more- maybe she was a no-winged human-girl-bird. She was growing tired, he could see. She was not used to a full night-hunt, when the wind sang a hunt-song. He shook his head at her. That meant No, a strong word. She knew he wasn't angry, because his hair was flat and his teeth weren't bared.

"No?" she asked.

Beast pointed to his back. She was too tired to keep flying, and there wasn't a reason for her to need to sleep all day. She already wide-breathed her tiredness, showing flat teeth with only four made to tear. When she frowned, he pointed again. She approached slowly, trying to work out what he was action-talking. He finally reached out carefully, leaving her time to back away. She only flew-stayed in the air and let his hand reach cautiously around her waist. She stopped when he held her, and he felt her small weight resting in his hand. She watched him, but not from fear.

He very gently placed her on his back, reaching behind him. She understood. She gripped into his fur, giving him a questioning look. He gave a very light shrug. She wouldn't hurt him. He made sure that she was secure before he began moving. At first, she tensed to stay in place. He walked slowly, letting her adjust to how his muscles moved beneath her. Finally, she relaxed and rested her head against his ruff. She couldn't see well, even in the moon's light, and all there was to see were the trees.

He sang a final hunt-song, the last before daylight. He could feel her smile in his neck-fur before she drifted into sleep. He walked back to the castle-home slowly, making sure that she wouldn't slip. He set her in the orchard, back at the castle. He didn't want to try bringing her through doors on his back, and she hadn't cringed away from his feast. He would bring her a meat-gift. That was what males did for- ladies, if he remembered the term. Raven was a lady, even if he wasn't a man- maybe it didn't matter.

* * *

Raven stretched before waking, an old habit. Her hand hit a tree. That oddity alone was enough to make her forego a few minutes of sleepy mutterings to sit up and look around. She was- in the orchard, not in her bed, because- Raven remembered. The hunt had been incredible, and the blood was natural. There was nothing disturbing about nature at its most beautiful. Predator and prey, life and death- they went together. Her last memory was resting in the surprisingly soft fur around his neck, thick hair that pulsed with his warmth. She looked around, but saw no signs of her Beast. 

She tried reading the sun's position in the sky, but gave up on that effort. It was close to noon- but she didn't know how close, or whether it was before or after. That meant that she had overdone it a little, with the flying. Raven looked around, once she had more or less managed a standing position. She doubted that the gray dress would ever be worn in public- the old lady down the road would be brandishing some yellow monstrosity before Raven could protest. She would definitely change dresses before venturing home- until then, a few mud splatters wouldn't hurt anyone.

Raven heard a few yells. _Great. _She recognized that voice. No one else in the village had that much arrogance- even Robin at his worst couldn't compete. Without further thought, she began walking into the forest. Drawing near the confrontation, she drew up her chin and put a hint of a flounce into her walk. Impressions meant everything, when dealing with idiots. Adonis made his boulder-headed friends look sharp.

Her entrance into the clearing had the desired effect. She was regrettably dressed in a partially soiled dress, but that didn't matter. She gave the scene a regal once-over, a trick of looking distant that she had taken a few days to master. Adonis was pinned beneath a very large familiar green figure, and Raven reminded herself that she had to interrupt, if only to give Adonis an insult to his attempts at dignity.

"Beast, he's not worth it," she said, stepping closer. Raven couldn't step between Beast and the challenger, not that she wanted to. Adonis could stew for another minute, and Beast was already relaxing a little. She put a hand at his elbow, used to how large he was. "Let him up, please."

He did. Raven smiled a quick thanks before turning her attention to Adonis. "I don't know what you thought you could prove, but you won't be tangling with him again. Next time, I won't be around to save you. As I'm sure you've noticed, he's stronger than you are. If you go back to the village before I can list out the reasons I should let him after you, we can forget that this happened. If I see you around here again, or if you try for a rematch with Beast, I'll hurt you myself."

Adonis sneered, the only response to such a credible threat. "The village will know that you're keeping company with a beast out in the woods, demon."

Raven allowed him the bluster, but would definitely spread a few rumors of her own. She was always nice to the little old ladies of the village. After all, they spread the whispers that could ruin a reputation. "Half-demon," she corrected. "Go home, Adonis." She doubted that Beast would attack again, but Adonis didn't know that- and Beast was making his best false snarls. When he truly was angry, he wouldn't sound like he was laughing.

Raven waited until Adonis had sauntered casually away, and then until the running footsteps faded from hearing. Then, she allowed herself a few giggles. "I think he won't try that again- at least, I hope he won't." Raven frowned. He was acting a little off. "Beast?" she asked. He looked away, which only deepened her frown to a scowl. "No, you are not- did you get hurt in the fight?" He ignored her. "Hurt?" When he started to move away, Raven decided that it was enough. They understood each other better than that.

"Excuse me, Beast, but I think he did hurt you. I happen to be a healer." She walked around in front of him, ready to try holding him back with a single hand- if he plowed her over, he probably wouldn't step on her. When he winced, she glanced at her hand to find blood. "Okay, blood is never a good sign. You are not moving- is that clear?" She looked up with her sternest look and waited. He nodded, once, then slowly took a seat on the ground.

Raven used a few impatient hand motions to clear away tangles of hair before drawing in a hiss of air. "Okay, this isn't an arrow wound. I didn't know that he had a knife- unless he doesn't anymore." She looked around and found a glint of metal high up in a tree. "There really was no need to give squirrels a weapon- and you wrestled that away from him, didn't you?" She waited for a nod. "Next time, try smacking him over the head before taking the weapon. Hand, please."

He knew that she was impossible in one of her moods. He showed her the palm of his hand. She looked at it and made a not-happy sound, but she wouldn't let him pull back his hand. Instead, she held her hand flat over the hurt until there was white bright-glow. He watched as the cut healed, leaving no trace of a scar.

Raven grinned. He was giving her a new sort of look- it appeared that the girl in gray still was interesting. "I can heal you. That's more useful than throwing things about with my mind- well, I'm not exactly sure how all that works, to be honest. I know all the fancy terms, but no one can give me a definition that I can hope to explain. Keep still for a minute, please." The wound over his ribcage was deeper, but she could heal him. She used both hands, spreading fingers wide until she gathered a pool of the white light that concentrated on the worst damage.

He caught her, when she fell. Raven still wasn't used to how far she could push her powers, but she was learning. She put up a cursory struggle, but she really didn't mind being carried around- not that she'd admit it. Even with a few just-for-pride kicks moving her around, his claws never touched her. By the time they reached the castle, she was ready to walk upright without falling over, and even negotiated the hallways without tripping.

Raven observed the dwindling fire. The despised fainting couch was only a few smoldering fragments, and Beast had already broken the lid off of an old chest. Raven glanced inside, to see if anything interesting was inside. Her father's old boxes often contained trapped genies and such, but the contents of this were plainer. All that was inside the chest was a book bound in white leather with dark decorative insets. She opened the book, skimming through the basic plot. Something about a dragon and a knight- she had more than enough material for a story just by living with Beast. This looked more like something Robin would like- and he preferred real fights to fictional accounts.

"I wish there was some sort of knight who wasn't a complete bore," she grumbled.

"There is."

Raven nearly dropped the volume. "Books are not supposed to talk."

"True, fair maiden- but I am no book. I am a man."

Raven gagged. Okay- the book was talking in language that was enough to make her sick. What did her father always say? Never trust enchanted objects, even if you cursed them in the first place. She watched the book flip it open to an image of his eyes as the "true knight" droned on about his tragic, angst-ridden life story. She didn't quite catch his name- Mallard? Malker? Millard Fillmore- no, definitely not that. She gave the book a final skeptical glance. As interesting as it was, she had seen too many creations of her father's.

She tossed the book on the fire and turned to Beast. "You know, Beast," she said conversationally while the book began to burn, "you have some weird books around here. I think I'll stick with the classics." She smiled when he tapped a book carefully. "That one should be fine- I'll take Norse mythology any day."


	4. Fairy Godmothers Need Not Apply

_Today for the author's note, I have a special guest- everyone say hello to the one and only Beast! (Rumbling growls are heard.) But- um, yeah, he's not the only guest today in the author's note, because we also have the beautiful Raven! (A firm glare quells any further complimentary titles.) They've cooperated wonderfully to produce the chapter, and- guys, you could have kept your paws off each other for just- I give up. They're holding hands, that's all, just to clarify for people with sick minds. I was going to send Beast after people who try flaming the pairing, but Raven has graciously volunteered- and she also told me to get on with the story. Since she's my leading lady, I guess I have to-_

_Hello. This is Raven. We're done with the trivial nonsense of an author's notes, and Beast and I are going back to the story. If you flame the pairing, I'll send you straight to Lynch. Understood? Thank you._

_By the way- enjoy the chapter._

**Chapter Three: Fairy Godmothers Need Not Apply**  
Raven found the small box by chance. It was wedged tightly in the ruins of what could have been a library, in a crevice that had also held a novel old enough to have hand-illustrated inside covers. She considered the small jewelry box before setting it back. There was only one problem- the wreckage in that area of the decimated room no longer would fit the box, and a touch of force with black magic only sent the box to the floor. The heart-shaped lid rolled away, and the mirror that had been inside the lid splintered into fragments.

The box was mangled after years of being in damp storage, but the contents were undamaged. Raven carefully removed a small portrait from it. She stared at the painting inside, trying to guess why such a beauty's smile wouldn't reach blue eyes. Glancing at the waist, Raven guessed that corsets had deprived yet another girl from oxygen. Raven could learn nothing from the likeness: she flipped over the painting.

The inscription caught her eye. The writing was small and written in a reckless hurry, but even after the years, the ink stayed in the gold backing. _To my beast, _it read. _I promised to stay forever, but promises are fragile things- and sometimes forever doesn't last. _

Raven was considering where she could put the small portrait away when she heard a heavy breath. She whirled, trying to prepare herself for any reaction. At the look on Beast's face, she dropped the miniature. A lock of palest blonde hair fell to the ground more slowly, catching in the air.

"Beast?" she whispered. He didn't look angry. She wished he would be mad, that she had found the last trace of someone who had forgotten a promise. She knew how to bring him away from anger, but she never had seen him look so blank. He backed away from her, or maybe from the picture at her feet. She knew she couldn't chase him. "Beast," she said again, wondering why her voice choked. The blue-eyed stranger hadn't hurt _her._

He shook his head, but this motion wasn't human. Raven knew that motion, a predator's death-shake to kill prey quickly. "Beast!" It was too late, even as she yelled. He retreated again, across the hall. When he was in the middle of the conservatory, he needed only to begin running. All the windows in the room were gone, as if someone had beaten out the last fragments. She watched him lope into the forest, and knew that he wouldn't welcome her company. Raven only wished that she knew exactly why he was so upset.

She knew that he didn't want company. If he had left her to run in the forest, he wished to be alone. Beast had no second motives. If he wanted to be around her, he would make the approach. She paced the border of the forest- patience was a trying thing.

He watched her. She kept turning to the forest and listening, but didn't think to look above her. He didn't make noise, not yet. He had to forget past fury. He had made himself forget the word-sound that meant the pale-hair girl. He waited even after Raven had left, keeping the memory of her calls singing in his ears. She had wanted him to come back. If he remembered her voice, he forgot old talks.

She was in the tree-place, asleep with a soft lip-curve smile at a night-dream. He wanted to go to be with her, but something was not-right. He needed to find what was wrong. He prowled to the front of his castle-house, as Raven's paper-leaf books called such places. There was no need to wake Raven. He would keep her not-hurt- safe.

He found the front doors all-open. Someone had come inside while he watched Raven. He sniffed the air in deep whuffs. Three people were inside his castle-house, two males and a not-right female. Her scent was strange, but made tracking the three easy. Their scent-trail led to Raven's room. They were in her den. A rumbling growl started in his throat.

A male ran from Raven's den, shouting. Beast heard 'Raven' mentioned. The short male should not say her name so angrily. He threw the small man across the room, and slashed at the large man that followed yelling of red-belly birds. Beast snarled when 'robin' was shouted along with nonsense. He could beat the two males. They threatened his Raven, and he would fight. The odd-smelling female flew at him lit with green fire, reeking of anger and hot-rage.

Beast fell back at the blasts of green fire-light, and drew close to the smaller man. The bird-man had a shining stick, and it hurt claws. He couldn't slice the weapon into lesser dangers. The large man's hand was gone, replaced by a blue weapon-stick.

Beast knew the three fighters could beat him, but he couldn't let them find Raven. They still shouted angrily about 'ate' and 'Raven.' No one would eat _his _Raven. The girl shot light at his eyes, the large man knocked him back, and the small man wouldn't let him balance enough to charge away. Beast had to guard Raven, but it would be easier if she had a warning. They couldn't find her asleep, if they still yelled of 'ate Raven.'

He roared when the shine-stick hit the back of his leg. They would make him go into the blackness. In the blackness, he knew what would happen. He would wake up weak- he couldn't do that. He drew back his lips, baring teeth traced with blood from a quick hunt in the woods. If they won, then it was their right to have Raven, by law of nature. Predators fought in packs to defeat other prey-eaters for food, but it was wrong. He howled a challenge, though the pale-light of the night-sky was far from the dark no-fire room the pack had forced him into.

The green-light girl flew at him, the large man's weapon-arm made the slow whine that meant it would fire, and the bird-man twirled his stick. Beast knew that he was going to lose, but that meant he could make a final hunt. He saw the three moving towards him in the dim light- until something threw them back.

"No!" Raven flew into the room, making angry arm-jerks. The pack flew away from him, controlled by Raven. He didn't chase, not yet. Raven would fight with him, and together they would not lose. She would hear the calls of "ate Raven" and know how to keep safe.

She close-opened her eyes quickly, trying to see in the dark. "I don't know who you are, but you're not going to hurt him without getting through me."

"R-Raven?" the bird-man asked.

Beast watched as Raven dropped all three attackers. She had been holding them in mid-air, using the black-magic that she was better at controlling. She was angry, but her eyes stopped their bright-glow.

"Yes, Raven," she snapped. Raven was not pleased to see her friends, for once. "You could have hurt him- for all I know, you already gave him a few wounds. I was sleeping when I heard a roar. That woke me up. When I heard a hunt-song in here, I think I broke air-speed records."

"We thought that he'd eaten you," Robin explained, fully aware of how ridiculous that sounded now. Raven had pulled back the musty curtains with a few flicks of her wrist, throwing the entire fight into sunlight. In the light, the beast's confusion was obvious.

"Why?" she asked. Raven knew any threat of danger was past, but adrenaline still quickened her pulse. She put a hand on Beast's shoulder, a silent request. She would explain soon.

No one else was talking, so that left Robin. He had been the first to attack. "Adonis spread rumors about a beast. We didn't believe him, but came here to visit you. Your room was empty, and we found bones in the fire."

Raven forced herself to calm down before she made Beast restless. "Those are from a few of his meals. He eats everything but the bones, with deer." She looked at Beast for a few moments, stroking the fur on his shoulder until he stopping making the rumbling growl she could feel, not hear. "You probably scared him, and he doesn't know most words. Beast understands me better, but that's not saying much."

"Beast?" Starfire asked.

"I've been living with him for eleven days. I think I know his name." She watched her teammates exchange uneasy looks. "What?"

"It's been thirteen days," Cyborg said. "Your father expects you to be back tomorrow, or he'll come out here to get you." Cyborg knew better than to spoil Arella's surprise.

Raven knew that they wouldn't lie. "I lost track, then."

Cyborg decided to change the subject. "Does Beast understand you? He stopped baring his teeth when you chucked us across the room, but he still doesn't look very happy."

Raven nodded. "Beast, these are my friends. They are good. They were confused." She repeated the sentences for him, letting him remember the words. He nodded when he understood, and then offered a hand to Starfire.

She glanced at Raven before coming forward. Starfire took his hand gently and murmured a Tamaranean greeting for sentient beasts. He regarded her solemnly. Starfire smiled. "He is calm with you, Raven, but not when you are in danger. We were yelling most vehemently about how 'he ate Raven.'"

"He knows 'ate,' and Beast knows me. We haven't gotten to conjugation." Raven finally felt calm enough to leave the air. Beast was relaxed, now, and she could be, too. "I don't think the Beast likes males in his territory, Cyborg and Robin, but he won't attack. He'll just make sure you're not trying anything." Raven smiled at the looks on her friends' faces. "I know, but he's a bit protective."

Cyborg had already reverted to normal hands. "I can understand that. We were pretty protective, when we couldn't find you and came in here worried. We thought something had happened to you out here."

"Adonis caused the most trouble. Adonis scratched Beast. I healed him after I drove Adonis away," Raven explained.

"A scratch?" Robin was used to under-exaggeration, from Raven.

"Okay, so I could see a rib or two. I still healed him." Raven should have known they would make a big deal out of everything.

"Raven, you get dizzy after healing bruises," Cyborg reminded her.

"He had to carry me back, but it was okay," Raven said, not at all enjoying the way that Starfire was starting to get a knowing look. "I'm coming home tomorrow, anyway. Starfire, would you help me pack?" Raven barely waited for a response before dragging Starfire off to the bedroom. She was not going to say this in front of the guys.

Raven started packing while Starfire waited a moment at the door. Beast stared at Cyborg and Robin. Robin and Cyborg stared at Beast. Starfire turned to ask Raven, but Raven anticipated the question. "If he hasn't attacked them by now, he won't," Raven said.

"You know him well."

"Would you knock off the all-knowing looks? We've lived together for two weeks," Raven snapped. She didn't quite know why she was being so defensive, but Starfire and her I-know smile would analyze meaning out of a glare.

Starfire decided to not push. "Did you always get along well with him? He seems very different."

"We had a fight, when I first came here- he roared and threw a vase, I showed off a few tricks, and then were mutually interested enough to not try killing each other. He can speak, but it hurts his throat. All he's said to me was his name, but I understand him."

"Raven, do you want to come home?"

Raven couldn't remember Starfire's perception reaching past the language gap- but in cases like this, words and nuances didn't matter. "Of course I want to go home. I just need a final day, that's all. I need to figure out how to explain that I'm leaving."

Starfire closed the latches on the suitcases. Raven had forgotten they were packing. "Do you want us to take these?" Starfire asked. She was offering a final chance, not even touching on pride.

"Yes, Starfire." Raven didn't object when Starfire took all bags. Starfire had supernatural strength, and didn't mind using it. Raven hugged Starfire before her friends left, but she never had been physically close to Cyborg and Robin- that would just unnerve the town too much, and she had to give the townspeople a break sometime. Besides their usual contact, Raven bet that Beast would not be happy. Instead, she waved to them, refusing to feel sentimental. She would be seeing her friends tomorrow, and she had told her father two weeks. That was what she would spend away from home.

Beast watched her as her lips drew into an unhappy line. He reached towards her with his hand up and tapped her shoulder with the smooth part of his claw. She looked up, and her mouth curved into a smile. She didn't make any words. Raven knew that hunts needed no words, and she rose into the air without a signal. He watched her blue shawl ripple as she moved, the only color against a drab gray dress she had found. He listened for a moment, to be sure. The last day-bird had stopped singing, so he moved from the castle. She followed, and knew to move faster when the large-eyed night-bird called a sad cry. Beast howled the hunt-song, and called the faint light of the stars and moon to the game-trail and ran faster when the light came.

She knew that this was the last time. She had promised to stay away for two weeks, and the days spent with Beast were worth anything she might have missed. It was almost time to go home- she banished the thought to morning. Raven should keep her mind on the hunt, if only so the hunt-song could sing in her dreams.

He knew she didn't hear the hunt-song. She followed, but she didn't follow changes in speed as quickly as she usually did. She had not been mad when he fought her friends. They had acted like rival-enemies, and she had not shown anger at him. She had been soft with him after throwing her friends, and had smiled when her friends took her things. He knew the hunt-song would help, if she would listen- but she worried her problem like a hurt-wound, when it could heal alone.

He stopped and caught her in one motion, careful of his claws. She didn't fight him; she only watched him in big-eyed shock. He could think of the questions. Why did she worry? What was wrong? Could he help? Instead, he found one word. He was a beast-man, and could almost remember a time when he had been weak-but-strong. "Why." He couldn't make the word-sound higher in call, but she knew it was an asking-word.

"I'm thinking- I know, a hunt isn't the best place to try to puzzle through hard topics, but it's been on my mind for a while."

She used too many words for a simple idea. She was worrying her problem, and did not want to tell him about it. She had a secret. He knew that word- secret. He might tell her his secret. He could trust Raven to not leave his castle-house when she heard. Raven had stayed longer than any others, already a half-moon. Raven made him remember all the words that his mother and father had taught him, and even a female voice that was mother. With time, he might recall his mother past den-shadows of being small.

She flew from his hand-paw. She was small enough to perch there, but she never was afraid of his size. He was scared of hers. Raven was so small- he had to be cautious every moment, to make sure that he didn't hurt her. She was strong- but so was he. Raven smiled at him and hovered at his side, half-shutting her eyes when he howled. When he ran, she stayed at his side. For this night, she wouldn't trail in his wake. She could feel the hunt-song tell her where to turn, and she followed it.

Raven wasn't tired, throughout the night. She saved each memory, but she didn't passively watch. She was a part of the night. The wind teased her shawl into rippling, the shadows ran across her face gently, and even the stifled shriek of fear from a wild boar was a part of the night. Raven didn't back away when the blood sprayed- she formed a shield, leaving the blood to the forest. Instead, she flew above the clearing. The night sky was partially shrouded in clouds, and the moon was veiled. She could have watched the clouds for hours- but Beast was ready to move, and the hunt-song thrummed in the air. This was a sort of meditation, but it let her take a sound sleep afterwards.

Raven knew that she would be able to make it back to the castle- but she needed to be able to get home. He knew what she was thinking and slowed. Raven wrapped her arms around his neck, one last time. She meant to stay awake, to watch the way back and remember the sensation of fur beneath her arms- but the warmth and feeling of being completely safe lulled her into sleep. She would miss him, when she left- the thought stayed with her as she drifted asleep, and presented itself anew when she yawned into semi-consciousness. She never had understood morning people- she needed a cup of tea before she felt halfway alive, most days.

She was in the orchard, and an apple neatly cut from the tree, branch and all, was at her side. She took it with a smile. Despite her misgivings, she hadn't had time to tire of apples. Beast had brought her rabbits and small game-birds frequently, and Raven had managed to cook them with a few spices tucked away in cabinets. She finished the fruit before steeling herself to her next task. She stood slowly, and recognized the delaying tactic for what it was. She didn't want to do this.

She found him in the great-hall. "Beast, I'm leaving," she said with no preamble. There was no kindness in saying polite things. He wouldn't understand.

He didn't know why she was unhappy. She had been happy to see her friends, even if they had taken her books with them, and she had liked the hunt. He made his best question-face. Even the one syllable of "why" hurt his throat.

"I know that I'll miss you- I'll come back to visit, more likely than not."

Miss- like when he pounced the wrong way during a hunt. Back- that was the place that predators aimed for, in a hunt. Miss you I come back- that was not a word-pattern he recognized. She had failed a hunt? Maybe she wanted to hunt, next time, or had gone on her own- she was a predator, and was learning old instincts.

"I need to go home."

She didn't look happy- maybe she thought she should have hunted. Home- that was with Raven. But- go? Did she have to make a run to go home?

"I'm sorry."

Sorry- but that meant she had done something wrong. She missed a hunt? Maybe she had wished to pounce, or she had found another hunt-trail that he had missed.

"I know you don't understand, but I can't think of another way to say goodbye."

Can't and good- Raven couldn't feel good after a missed-hung. He held out a hand, claws curled in. Did she want to hunt?

"No, Beast."

No was a strong word, but she wasn't angry. She was close to making salted-water drops with her eyes, but she wasn't going to yell. Raven was sad, and she wouldn't let him make her feel better. She watched the door, even when he tried to look at her eyes. Humans believed that eyes would show emotion- and he knew they would. She was hiding what she felt from him.

"Goodbye, Beast."

He knew what good meant, and that she was talking to him. He was Beast, even if he couldn't make her word-sounds very well. But- what was 'bye? He watched her back away. Raven was in the doorway before he stepped forward- and then she flew. She flew into a shimmering shape of blackness that almost looked like a bird-shadow, and she was gone, streaking over the woods. He howled a call after her. He knew words wouldn't be enough- but maybe the hunt could draw her back again.

By the time darkness had fallen, his voice was hoarse and he didn't have the energy to go for a hunt. The next day, after Raven had been on her own hunt and came back to the castle-house, he would take her to see the larger prey- or maybe let her hunt deer, if she wanted. He had made some mistake in courting the female, but she would return. She had to. Who else would help him remember?

* * *

Raven stumbled in front of her house, tearing herself from a blur of dark energy. She had never done that before- but it was faster than walking. If it occurred to her that she hadn't left a trail for Beast to follow, the thought slipped from her mind after a little careful deletion. She opened the front door and slipped inside before any idiot in the otherwise English-speaking town could say "bonjour" to her several dozen times. She did not like morning people. 

She closed the door behind her, listened carefully to make sure she didn't hear anyone trying at being bilingual, and then froze. She blinked a few times, to make sure she wasn't delusional. Her father had always kept the house a bit- dark, one might say. Raven doubted that it was the most healthy environment to be raised in, but the brimstone incense kept even Jehovah's Witnesses from staying long and amusing her father with Biblical anecdotes. Trigon liked listening to religious zealots. They made him laugh.

Raven's attention quickly caught and dismissed several new features. The textured walls with many layers of brown had been scrubbed down to smooth plaster and painted a delicate shade of cream. The rack that her father had hung coats on (an actual rack from the Spanish Inquisition that he liked to show to any overly persistent salespeople) was gone, replaced by an actual coat-rack. The chairs were all new, and Raven would bet none of these had a few traps cleverly disguised in the cushions. All of these details paled in comparison to one horrible fact, even after seeing her father's occult books supported by two tasteful bookends of graceful sculpture.

"There is a doily on the basin-table." Rachel stared at it. The basin-table was an artifact from hell- literally. The marble piece of furniture had a bowl cut directly into the stand, with a few channels cut into the edges of the basin to slowly drip fluids down carvings. Her father always had claimed that it was 'for blood,' which fit the gruesome detail work in the sculpture, but Raven had never seen anything more gruesome than home-brewed moonshine guaranteed to kill most mortals.

"That is the only doily in the house. I'm trying to convince your father to at least move that thing downstairs, next to the rack he refuses to burn, and he's very close to snapping. I must admit that I'm impressed- he's lasted three days with that doily in his sitting room."

Raven found the source of the voice. "Mother?"

"Don't be all formal with me, daughter." Arella smiled fondly at her daughter. "I know I was in Azarath, but that was a temporary measure. Your father and I agreed long ago that only one of us could raise you. It was either let him take care of it, or have you shipped off to Azarath where you'd be trained to repress your emotions and never feel that anyone really cared for you, and then your father would have to probably go through with the prophecy of using you as a portal because the custody exemption wouldn't have nullified all the claims, and the world would be in danger and it would be very hard for you to relate to people and then you'd have all kinds of psychiatry bills later in life, assuming you ever would admit you could use someone to listen."

Raven blinked. "Mom? Did they teach you how to talk without breathing in this Azarath place? You didn't turn colors when your sentence ran a marathon."

Arella laughed. "No, just some advanced meditation and such, being attuned to emotions- and you're dead tired. Your father says that you've chosen to go with emotions instead of power- that'll make you happier in the long run, maybe." She decided to skip the usual speeches reserved for a mother-meets-daughter-again occasion and go straight for something useful. "Let's put you to bed- it might be the afternoon, but I think you'll manage sleeping for a good long while."

Arella eased her daughter out of her shawl, leaving the dark blue garment draped over a chair. She gave the gray dress her daughter wore a quick glance- there were twigs caught in the hem, and Raven could use a few alterations in the fit. That could wait a few minutes. Arella brought Raven through a dark room, muttering when they almost tipped over an overly fancy hand mirror her father had undoubtedly brought with him. "Good night, Raven."

Raven was too sleepy to protest such an early time to retreat to bed. There was no reason to stay awake. Her mother would still be home, her father would still know that Raven had kept her word. Her arms snaked around the pillow as she slept, and Raven didn't know that she frowned through her dreams when her hands felt cotton sheets instead of fur. The frown faded through the night, when the hunt-song rang through her dreams- but the wild call faded, and she woke with a start when she could feel it slipping away completely.

Raven looked around for a desperate second before she recognized her own room. She ignored a heart-jabbing moment of disappointment. She was home. It was with this attitude that she stomped over to her closet, only to stop beside the black silk dress. Her mother had left a quick note- the dress had been altered to fit her, and the dresses that had been jammed in a suitcase were airing out. Raven slipped into the dress, not surprised when it fit. Arella was a firm believer in getting details right.

Raven floated down the staircase. It was easier than wondering if her mother had convinced her father to fix the squealing stairs, and took almost no effort. She glanced into the kitchen from the relatively safe vantage point of the doorway from the dining room. If her father was preparing an old family recipe, she would only have to move about ten steps to reach the compost heap and deposit any old meals that desired expulsion. When she didn't see any red spatters on blue walls, she stepped inside. Her father was baking.

"Cinnamon rolls?" Raven asked, trying to guess why her father was baking pastry. It was morning- she had slept straight through the night, then.

"You sound disappointed," he said with a grin. Raven didn't begin to hope at his odd teeth. The smile she wanted to see belonged to a green man, and her father was red. "It's about time you woke up- you were out for a day and a half. Your friends brought your bags back without you and mentioned that you were staying with a friend."

"The friend was a man, father." Raven moved closer. Her father had a long roll of dough with cinnamon and sugar, and was moving his knife carefully.

"Did he hurt you?" Trigon asked, pausing in preparations.

"Never, not at all," Raven told him, so sadly that he knew she wasn't lying. "I left him."

"Does he have a name?" Trigon asked evenly, slicing a new roll and putting it in the pan. As Arella had explained, greased pans worked much better in ovens.

"He's not a man. He's Beast, and people always seem to assume the worst about him- and I need to see him again."

"You're having a proper meal, first. Your mother actually cleared out that chicken coop out back and put in hens. Two brave ones even started laying- she just takes a while to get the eggs. Your mother is afraid of chickens, but she's going to 'get over it' by terrifying herself just to get breakfast. Of course, it's probably better- the chickens do not like me," Trigon said blithely, waiting for a laugh. He did get one, but she was still distracted.

Arella bustled in from the backyard, a triumphant smile on her face. "I only dropped one egg today, the rooster didn't charge after me, and I remembered the basket." Arella liked the simpler things in life, and adored larger joys- like when Trigon had relented the previous evening and taken the horrible blood-pedestal-thing to his lair in the basement. "Raven, that dress fits you- good. Breakfast will be ready in ten minutes- until then, you can chat with your parents. As soon as you eat, don't worry about the dishes- just go after whatever boy you're mooning about."

Raven smiled, and didn't rue the true laugh her mother had startled out of her. With an intergalactic traveler and a demon for parents, it didn't matter if she was expected to stay in town. She had come back to visit her parents, and they could be introduced to Beast in a few days, after she had time to settle in. Beast had a few books she could borrow- she didn't need luggage to go back home. Nontraditional relationships could work out- her parents were happy, finally, and it had just taken Arella a few years to realize what she wanted and for Trigon to realize who he needed. Raven left, full of breakfast, her favorite blue shawl draped over an arm. She was going to end this fairy tale happily, even if she did have to fight off entire the mobs of pitchfork- and torch-bearing folk herself. Who needed a fairy godmother? Raven would take care of her problems without any meddlers helping.


	5. In War, In Love

_As a special present for the last chapter in this tale, some dialogue in the end is based on comments from people I've talked to while writing this story. Without Kayasuri-N and dr.evil99 to listen to rants, a few sections wouldn't have had the same effect- and I'm sure they'll recognize the remark at the end. To clear up confusion before it starts, the first brief section is at night. The next section begins in the morning of the next day._

**Chapter Four: In War, In Love**  
Beast wandered. He couldn't reach the small room that smelled of her, no matter how angry the smell made him. For all the rage that threatened to consume her, he breathed in that delicate fragrance that meant all things that were her. He wanted to destroy the last traces of that room, but he knew that he couldn't. If he lost her scent completely, he would forget it. Slowly, he would forget how she had smelled like the special dead leaves and old trees and apples. If he forgot how she smelled, memories of what she looked like and how she acted would fade. She never had been so afraid that she backed away.

He knew he would forget her. He tried to make the process faster when not confronted by her scent. He hunted. He scared any caravans to pass anywhere by the castle, and snarled at frightened shouts that the beast was prowling again. The beast howled his frustration to the fire, and the sound echoed through the empty castle. Raven had left, and he couldn't stay near the place she had so often sat to read to him, or touch the book she had forgotten. The not-leaves smelled of her, and she had treasured all of them. Instead, he shoved the books into the far corner of the room.

He knew what the word meant, the one that he hadn't understood in her simple phrase. "Goodbye, Beast." He knew his name, and now he recognized that she had mashed the two words together. When put with "bye," good lost its meaning. She had left him. He could imagine that she had moved to a better territory- to another mate. Goodbye meant anger and sadness and the horrible hope that came from the part of him that never would fully be an animal. He roared, but the weaker impulses wouldn't leave.

The moon rose twice over the castle. The books remained on the shelves, but any book lying on the floor was shredded into useless bits of dead-tree and ink. The fire died, and the low coals lost their heat to cold stones around them. The beast growled as he stormed through the orchard, claws slashing until the weak young trees were a mess of fragmented branches showing too much green wood. He growled, baring his teeth at a dropped handkerchief that smelled entirely of- girl. With a snarl that send prey fleeing to safety, he ripped the cloth in two. The wind took the pieces, carrying them to the forest. The beast watched them go before trailing a new scent, a doe that had passed through. He would bring the animal back to his cave to eat. The beast licked his lips, already savoring the coming taste of blood that a night's hunt would bring.

* * *

Raven broke into a run fifty yards from the castle. If she had been carrying luggage, it would have been airborne. She had fretted through her entire walk to the castle, too anxious to trust herself with flying. Something wasn't right. She could always feel him, a presence that she could sense just as some people could always hear a cock crowing, or a kettle beginning to whistle. She couldn't make her dim connections with the Beast. 

She threw open the front doors with a burst of power and closed them with a careless wave, never flagging in her run. She peered into the ruined great hall, waiting for her eyes to adjust. She blinked impatiently, trying to hasten the change that would make her again at home in the dark. Raven turned around very slowly when the rumbling growl started, and found a beast towering above her. This wasn't Beast. She had never imagined that his eyes could carry that flat look, or that he could look- like a beast.

For the first time, Raven was afraid of him.

She backed away carefully, moving towards her room. He wouldn't be able to make it through the entrance, and maybe she could talk to him from a safe distance. Usually, he didn't try to reach through the kitchen. She knew it was a shallow hope, when she felt very much like the next item on the menu. She remembered the scars of people who had only passed by this old castle, deep gashes that had been warning shots. The beast wasn't going to warn her and send her away.

"Beast," she said with a valiant attempt to keep her voice level. "I came back. I've been gone only two days, and I've been speaking with my mother."

He snarled, showing teeth, and the following growl vibrated. In the echoing halls, the growl was a continuing peal of thunder. Raven shielded herself only by instinct when the beast sprang.

Raven huddled in a small shield-sphere, shivering as blows rocked the surface. No one had ever made one of her creations shake so. She regretted her emotional freedom. She needed power, and she had no more. She couldn't keep herself safe, and calling for help through dim empathic links would take more energy than she had. If she was unconscious, even for as long as it would take for Starfire to fly to her aid- it was a lost cause.

She tumbled to the ground when he broke through. He pinned her before she could try running, with only one paw. She gulped when very sharp claws rested just below her neck. She knew that those claws could cut through solid wood. She looked the beast in the eyes. If he was going to kill her, she would rather see it coming than wait. He stared back at her. The only motions were breathing- Raven's quick and loud; the beast's slow and even.

"I came back for you," she said after a few minutes of silence. "I am sorry I left, but I made a promise. I've kept all of them."

He looked at her for another minute, remembering the smell of female and how she still didn't scream and hurt his ears, and she felt the pressure of claws on her throat before his clawed hand jerked away from her body. Raven took in a few deep, shaking breaths, reassuring herself that nothing was broken. She only looked at the hand he offered her. That was enough. Raven was tired of this, and never had been one for polite silence. She brought herself to her feet, leaning on carvings in the walls.

"That is enough," she said, shaking out her skirts and impatiently brushing her hair from her face. "I know you're a beast, I know you think differently than I do- but you can't be two inches from killing a girl, and then offer to help her stand up."

He was obviously confused, but she was not going to take to explain all of this in words that he would know. He had forgotten part of the lessons already, apparently. Raven knew what she had to say. She couldn't stay in this fairy tale all her life. "You're a nice guy- if you even are a guy- but your whole dreary and creepy act is not helping you out here. Someday, I'll need to go back again. I need to see my friends. I can't throw my friends, villain, and father out the window because you, the huge, green, and hairy, have a temper tantrum if I leave you alone for two days.

"This is my luck, though. Your tantrums are worse than mine," she said, ignoring a tinkle of china as she lost all control of her temper. She never had liked that teapot, and didn't know why someone kept a chipped teacup around. "You're as stubborn as I am, acting without thinking about consequences, and in all ways act too much like I do for me to be very comfortable with the idea. Isn't it just like me? I fall in love with the one guy my father never considered as a candidate for marriage."

Raven went back over her tirade. _Drat. _She should have known it would come to this. "Yeah, I guess I do love you. I like green, hairy isn't an issue, and I'm not the most social girl. I only need the occasional trip to the village, to assure my friends that I'm alive- and they wouldn't mind. They'll even come out to visit, if you wouldn't mind."

He was giving her his best quizzical look. Raven smiled. He had been hurt, and she knew that he wasn't the best at dealing with such strong emotion. "I'll find a way to explain this in our language, no matter how odd this is. Are you even my species? This is wrong on so many levels- figures, but at least I'll have an interesting life."

"Raven," he said.

She smiled, only a little sadly. She did wish that he could talk without so much effort. "You're going to hurt your throat, if you don't take it easy. I doubt you are my species, judging by the way your vocal cords are arranged- and your teeth are completely carnivorous. You'd best not bite your tongue."

"Love," he said, frustrated that he couldn't know all of her words. The syllable was distorted, but she knew what he meant.

"You do?" she asked, shy. "I didn't know if I was just being silly. I'm still terrified that I'll wake up at any moment and be home with a fever."

He shook his head fiercely. Words still escaped him, but maybe he could learn. Raven still was trying to learn the hunt-songs . . . maybe she could learn the easiest of melodies. They had the time.

Raven took one of his hands in both of her own, careful of the claws, and was considering how she would go about hugging him, if a kiss on the cheek was entirely impossible, when his skin started rippling. "Beast," she said, grabbing his hand tighter. She couldn't say anything else- words escaped her. She could feel his skin losing hair, muscles shrinking away, and bones twisting.

He howled, letting all know that he was in pain. Raven willed her white magic to work and only held onto the shifting hand harder. When the white finally came to her, she felt untapped power rush past boundaries- her father had warned her that extreme emotion could trigger powers, and she guessed that love and the fear of losing him were strong enough. He stopped howling, but he was growing smaller and smaller. Raven knew that she had overextended herself, and there was nothing else for it. Her last thought before falling was that the fainting couch was enacting its karmic revenge- well, actually, that just sounded dignified. Really, her thought before crumpling into an infuriatingly ladylike swoon (she always would say later that she had blacked out) was something along the lines of several expletives followed by the phrase "fainting couch"- but that's not very important.

* * *

Raven woke to someone hesitantly shaking her shoulders. She blearily opened her eyes, waiting for the blur to settle into a recognizable room. As soon as her eyes opened, the strange presence backed away suddenly. That made her struggle into sitting up- she wasn't that dangerous, after all. She would probably be able to stand, but that would be a challenge. The other person, of course, didn't need to know this just yet. Finally, her eyes and her mind made the proper connections, and she could see a gangly male watching her with a very worried look. He spoke before she could find words that would make any sort of sense. 

"Miss! Are you alright?" he asked, forcing words past breathless worry.

She blinked. She was still in the great hall, and the fire was still out. She never had possessed incredible night vision, but she could tell that the man was exhausted by his posture. Raven never had been cheerful, coming out of a deep sleep- or unconsciousness brought on by hyper-extending herself. If that was the case, she could have been out for hours. "Why are you in this castle? It's not exactly in the way of anything." Maybe he had- _no, don't think that, _Raven said to herself. _Pessimists get heart disease, remember? Calm down. _Talking to herself was better than screaming at the poor stranger. She didn't have anything to back up the suspicion that something had happened to Beast.

"I was- around," he said evasively. "This is a dangerous place, miss. I wouldn't advise staying around here- there's a beast in this area, and he isn't very tame. He's hurt people, before- mostly to patrol his territory, but he can be mean."

That brought Raven to her feet. "I can look after myself, thank you," she said stiffly. She was close to losing her balance, but that was nothing. "Where is the beast you speak of?" she asked, fearing the worst.

"He's moved on, for now, but he'll be back eventually. He always is. It would be better if you moved on before then, miss. He and people don't get along very well- if you're still asking after him, I'd bet you haven't met him," the stranger said politely.

Raven wasn't in the mood for being polite. "I have met him. I've known him for two full weeks, and he never has hurt me." She would have been able to say that he had never laid a claw on her, but she had forgotten how much Beast used emotions. It wasn't his fault. He couldn't repress emotions any more than he could retract his claws.

"You were a curiosity, then. Even the most primitive of people kept entertainment about. It's best to move on, miss. He won't remember you," he said calmly.

Raven stepped closer, hating her weak legs. She had healed Beast, had talked to him, had flown after him on a hunt and felt the hunt-song ring through her- that meant something. "No, and I'll tell you something- I don't know who you are, and I won't bother to ask. I know him. I know Beast, and you can't tell me that you're some kind of expert on him. Two weeks isn't nothing- and this isn't about some kind of pet." The day had been too hard. She had almost lost him, he had almost hurt her, she had healed him when he hurt- she remembered flesh writhing beneath her fingers, but that had to be a hallucination. She felt the warm pressure in her eyes, but she would not cry in front of this stranger.

"I know too much about him to let you stay here, miss. This is a dangerous place, with him around. I don't know why he let you stay in his territory, but I won't let you remain when he could return," he said, uncomfortable with the idea of forcibly ejecting a young woman. That wasn't very polite.

"I know why he let me stay." She stepped forward, aggressive despite her lack of balance. "He loves me."

"Perhaps a beauty can love a beast, but he can't show such high emotion," the man said softly. "He isn't capable of loving. The most complicated emotions are how to pick a mate, which is probably what he meant through any actions you interpreted."

Raven was close enough now, but she didn't have the strength to shove him without toppling herself over. "He told me, and you can't unsay that. He talked to me- was he 'capable' of that? Beast is just as good as any man- and he's better than you. He only tried to get me to leave just once, and he felt remorse for that."

He looked at her, stunned. She couldn't have done better. If she had shoved him, he wouldn't have known that he hit the ground. "He- talked?"

"Yes, he did. You obviously are no help. I'm going to come back, every day, until he comes back. I know a little bit of tracking, and I don't think he can hide from me for too long. I don't think Beast would," she said, finding her center. She wouldn't be flying back to town, but she could manage a walk back to town if she moved slowly. "I know you only thought for my safety," she told the man, softening a little. He still was transfixed by the idea that Beast talked.

"He loses his memory, sometimes," the man said. "You won't find your Beast for a time, miss, but there are ways to call him back. I am sorry- but each time he reappears, he loses almost all memory."

Raven gave a small smile. She hadn't known that smiles could be sad. "I remember him, and that will have to be enough. Thank you, sir."

"I'm no sir, miss."

Raven rolled her eyes. "Listen to yourself. If I'm 'miss,' then you are 'sir.' Will that work?" The guy wasn't that bad, really- it was a natural reaction, after meeting Beast. Her friends had attacked Beast; this man only warned against him.

"I go by Gar, most times- it's short for a full name that I'd never saddle offspring with," he said quietly.

She held back a small smile at how shy he was. That wouldn't make him any less timid. She could start proving that she wasn't going to bite before they reached the other part of introductions. "You flinch whenever I move," she said before she could consider how forward she was being with a stranger. "I won't hurt you." Raven didn't move any closer to the stranger. In the dim light, she would be lucky to not find the biggest gaps in the flooring. Falling on him wouldn't get him to calm down.

"I'm more afraid of what I could do."

Raven frowned. "Okay, we're going to add a rule to this conversation. The next time you make a cryptic statement like that, I am going to get a full explanation. I'm not so easy to hurt, Gar. Let's trust each other- I'll trust you, you trust me, and that'll be enough."

He offered a small smile. "If you insist," he said with a world-weary expression so intense that it took her a moment to find the joke.

"I do," she said regally, playing along even before inspiration came to her. "Do you have a place to stay?" If he was loitering about old castles, he probably didn't have much of a home- if he had one at all. "Come to town with me- my mother has two rooms for boarders, and she's more interested in interesting conversation than pay for board. If you do dishes, she'll call it more than a fair trade."

"I have a place to stay, and it's better if I avoid towns," he said.

"What did I just say? You broke the only rule of this conversation. You could speak entirely in Pig Latin, for all I mind, but I've heard enough cryptic statements from you to last for at least another eight minutes," Raven said, overly exaggerating any exasperation.

"Then I'll just have to break the rules," he said. There was no trace of humor in his dry voice. She was losing him.

Raven took a risk. "Do you want me to leave?" she asked. Raven wouldn't intrude on his company. He knew that Beast maintained territory, and she was in no condition to protect anyone.

"That would be better."

Her hand was on his shoulder before he could turn away. "You don't want me to leave." It wasn't a question. If he could have used fewer words, he would have. "Gar, why do you want to be alone?"

He didn't answer, but he didn't move. Her hand was touching him- and he could almost remember the feel of cool fingers against his shoulder, just in that spot, soothing gently through thick fur. "I can be dangerous, Raven."

Her hand gripped his shoulder at that. She knew him, and he had proved it. Cold hope f"I never introduced myself."

"I don't remember anything but you. The beast almost hurt you, Raven- but you didn't hurt him. He was going to kill you for coming to his territory- and you didn't stop him from slicing you open," he accused.

"I didn't have the strength," she replied simply. "He did come close to killing me- but he didn't. Couldn't you tell that I understood? I put everything I had into healing you, when you changed." She could remember how his hand had felt close to normal when she passed out.

"That was the first time it didn't hurt, except the first few seconds, but it doesn't mean that I'll never change back. I can't stay with all the people, Raven. I'm not normal," he said in a rush.

"I have purple hair and purple eyes. I'm half-demon. My friends that came by- one of them is an alien. A man who is sometimes Beast will scare some of the villagers, but those will be the people still waiting for lightning to smite me. Tell me when you change- and we'll leave, and come back here. I won't leave you- that love business doesn't care about details," Raven said. "I'm not leaving you alone, like it or not."

"It's when I get too angry," he said finally. "If I can't control getting angry, I turn into a beast."

Raven wasn't going to listen to him start up a self-pity trip. "When I get angry, I get four glowing red eyes and a bit of super-special demonic strength. At that point, I usually begin to demolish the nearby architecture. I've taken down two taverns already- people who take bothering me a little too far usually retreat to places with ready alcohol."

"You- don't mind?"

Raven took his hand, remembering the contact from before. He was still Beast- but he was more than that. He was Gar. "I'll never mind, Gar, and that's a promise."

He paused for a second, remembering. "You always keep your promises." He watched her face light up. "I'm starting to remember, parts of it," he explained. When she shifted her arms, he guessed what she implied without needing any clarifications, and they hugged in the middle of the dance floor.

Raven held out a single present- a book of matches. "I brought it for the oil lamps, but it'll work just as well for the fire. Do you want to re-light the fire?"

"You can," he said, remembering the last time someone had lit it. "I'm still a little shaky on fine motor skills." His mind still reached for muscles that he didn't have, and coming back to being small was always a let-down- except that she hugged him easily, now, without working around an excess of hair and bulk. He did help her gather kindling, but he insisted that it was no tradition of his to light the fire. Instead, he watched as she touched a match to kindling. She didn't promise to stay in the castle with him. Raven promised to bring him to the world.

As the firelight hit them, Raven glanced to her left and tried to keep a relieved sigh quiet- but he had good hearing, and anyone would see her smile.

"What?" he asked.

"For a second, I was afraid you'd look normal- I fell in love with a green Beast, and it'd be kind of sad to end up with your average fairy tale male." Raven grinned. For a moment, she was positively impish- it was time to draw him out of his shell a little. "And what girl wouldn't like a guy with pointed ears?"

He flushed, bringing a tinge of pink-brown to his cheeks. "My mother used to say that I look like an elf."

"That's because you do," Raven said, so practically that he had to smile. "Let's go home, shall we? I know that my mother will love to meet you- and she'll probably give you the third degree about when you want a wedding as soon as you walk in the door. She likes planning weddings."

He froze. "We don't need one of those for a while, do we?"

Raven shook her head. "No, not for a long while- I just decided to warn you before she could start showing you fabric swatches." She shrugged. "We have plenty of time, and I think we've managed to avoid the more irritating clichés of romance- but I want one of them."

"Wh- what's that?" he asked. He wasn't sure if he could break into song, if that was what she was after. He remembered the technique of using vocal cords, but he wasn't practiced.

"A kiss, of course." Raven expected him to agree- but she still beamed when he did.

She spoke again only when he paused at the doorway leading out of the castle. "No matter what, Gar, I love you- what other people think does not matter. I wouldn't care if you ran about in skintight purple." She smiled at the look on his face. "I'm kidding, Gar- I know you have more fashion sense than that." She waited through the indignant tirade about fashion sense. He had found himself a fresh set of clothes before she had regained consciousness, as he explained with a very offended air, but knew she was joking even as he feigned a defense for himself. The slow smile spreading across his face nullified any falsely angry tone to his words.

**In Which They Live Happily Ever After:**  
The narrator expresses her heartfelt regret, but no other phrase will work. They did, in fact, live happily ever after. Try something else- gleefully, pleasantly, or horribly ever after, but it just doesn't fit. There's nothing else to say, I guess, but

_**The End**_


End file.
